Puzzle Pieces
by tigbunholic
Summary: Barnaby cannot figure out the pieces to the puzzle. He's about to lose it. Luckily, the only piece that matters is right there by his side.


Holy hell. Okay, note to self, write shorter fics!

Anyway, this was done by request for secretfruit. Sorry if it isn't exactly what you were looking for, but I hope it's sort of close. Kotetsu is kind of a derp in this! Forgive, forgive, yes?

* * *

><p>Barnaby thinks that he should be happy that he's found closure. But he isn't. In the end, he's still alive and everyone he's ever loved is gone forever. They're all in the ground, lifeless and decaying and it almost makes him physically ill when he thinks about it.<p>

He forces a smile around the others, the people he's learned to call friends. But Barnaby isn't happy. He isn't exactly sad either. He's not sure what he is. What he is sure of, is that life is short, fragile, and so easy to take.

It's hard to explain, but Barnaby has a certain level of respect for Mr. Maverick. It takes an obscene amount of mental stamina to kill a boy's parents and then raise the child as your own. And that's exactly what Mr. Maverick had done. He _raised_ Barnaby as if he were his own child. Barnaby wants to hate the man. He wants to be happy that Mr. Maverick is dead. But he isn't. Mr. Maverick took Barnaby in when he had nowhere to go and no one left to love him. Didn't that mean in some way, shape, or form that Mr. Maverick had loved Barnaby?

Unfortunately, Barnaby couldn't ask Mr. Maverick this question because he was dead.

_Dead_.

_Always dead_.

But what if he isn't? Mr. Maverick had been a mastermind, after all. If he could make Barnaby believe that he'd spent the evening with Barnaby when his parents were getting murdered, surely he could make the entire world believe that he was dead. Who's to say this isn't all a dream anyway? Or a game? How does Barnaby know that any of this is even real? What if Mr. Maverick wants Barnaby to seek him out? Search for him, _find_ him.

Find him so that Mr. Maverick can love him once more.

If that's the case then Barnaby decides that there must be clues. He doesn't know where to look. He needs to start at the beginning, wherever that is. But how? _Records_? Yes, he would find Mr. Maverick's personal records and use them as a base to launch his initial investigation. He needs a timeline of Mr. Maverick's life. As painful as it is to admit it to himself, Barnaby regrets spending so much time wanting to avenge his dead parents. If he hadn't, he would have paid more attention to Mr. Maverick. He would have clues. He would know how to find the information that he needs. Right now he knows nothing.

Nothing.

He _hates_ not knowing.

Barnaby thinks it should be easy enough to infiltrate police headquarters' and retrieve Mr. Maverick's personal records. Now that he thinks about it, no one had ever come to him with a box of Mr. Maverick's belongings after he was killed. He supposes that the others, his _friends_ had something to do with this. They want to protect him, to shield him from the truth. They always have. He can't trust them. He can't trust anyone.

Barnaby lies in bed and waits for sleep. He needs it, _welcomes_ it, but it's not ready to come to him. Instead he lies flat on his back and stares at the ceiling. He thinks about Mr. Maverick. He imagines their reunion and for a brief moment, he is happy. But the image fades and he is once again staring at his plain, bare, ceiling. He closes his eyes and thinks about puzzle pieces and how he must carefully arrange them so that all the pieces fit precisely. Eventually his breath evens out and he sleeps.

He dreams about letters, numbers, puzzles, and death.

* * *

><p>Barnaby is frustrated when he looks over Mr. Maverick's records. There is nothing that stands out, nothing that demands he take notice to it right away. It is all commonplace. Where are the riddles, the clues, the <em>help<em>? How is he supposed to do this without Mr. Maverick giving him any hints?

"This can't be everything," Barnaby says. He stares at the clerk perched at her raised desk. Heaps of papers have created a wall around her. Boxes without labels are stacked on the floor along the walls. The woman stifles a yawn and smiles at Barnaby. He almost feels bad for her. He sees the bags underneath her eyes and the beads of perspirations rolling down the side of her face. The room is hot, muggy, and the air is recycled and dry. She reminds Barnaby of a caged animal or a rescued, but unadoptable pet.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Brooks. That's all we have," she says.

Barnaby shakes his head. There is no way this is everything. There is more and he _will_ have it. "You're lying."

The woman's eyes widen and her brows arch. She is obviously shocked. She bows her head in apology. "I'm sorry," she says softly. "But I'm afraid I'm not. This really is all—"

"Don't," Barnaby raises his voice, cuts her off. "Don't lie to me." He approaches the woman and she scrambles out of her seat. There's an expression on her face that looks all too familiar to Barnaby.

She's afraid.

Barnaby ignores her and steps over a stack of boxes. His heart races when his hands grip the edge of a box and wrench it down from its spot on a shelf. "Just tell me where it is!" he shouts.

The woman cries and reaches for the phone. She snatches up the receivers and sobs heavily when papers began to fly about the room. Her fingers hover above the keypad and she pauses. She has never had to call for help before. She's a temp, a single mom struggling to make ends meet for herself and her young daughters. She's working in the record's department of the police headquarters. Should she still dial 9-1-1?

"What are you doing?" Barnaby asks. He hates the woman. Hates how terrified she is. Hates that she's crying and not answering his questions. He's glowing now, bathed in blue light. He snatches the receiver away from her and smashes it onto the base. The wooden desk beneath the phone explodes under his strength and the woman screams for help.

Officers, both in uniform and out, are at the door in seconds. They're demanding that Barnaby stand completely still, threatening to shoot if he makes any sudden moves.

"Tell me where it is?" Barnaby screams. He's tired and frustrated. He's trying to solve a puzzle without the clues. He just needs a little help. But they won't help him. They don't care... Why won't they just _help_ him?

"Not another word!" one of the officers shouts. "Get on the ground and no one has to get hurt."

Barnaby is offended by this. He has risked his life to protect these people on more than one occasion and now that _he_ needs help, he's become the enemy. He could kill them all, the woman, too. He could take down the whole building if he really wants to.

"I said on the ground!"

Barnaby turns toward the officer shouting at him. Protect and serve. That's the slogan the cops are so proud of. But who was serving Barnaby? No one. Who was protecting him? Nobody. The cop has a gun pointed at him. Barnaby wants him to shot, dares him to shoot so he can rip the other man apart and make his comrades watch.

There has to be something. _Anything_. Barnaby is tired of the games. He feels like he would be better off just asking Mr. Maverick where to look for clues…

Could that be it? Surely, _surely_, if Mr. Maverick isn't really dead he would have decided that the best place to leave clues to his whereabouts would be inside his own coffin. Barnaby bends his knees and tilts his head back, his face points toward the ceiling. If he can get to Mr. Maverick's grave, he can find all the answers he's looking for.

"Don't do it!" another office cries. "Think about what you're doing."

But Barnaby_ is_ thinking about it. That's what they can't understand. All he does is think, but he needs to do more than just think. He needs to act. He needs to _do_. That's the only way he'll find the answers, the only way his solve the riddle, complete the puzzle.

Barnaby didn't have times to play games with these people and he isn't afraid of their bullets. They wouldn't even hurt him. Besides, he only has four minutes of Hundred Power left and he needs every second to get to Mr. Maverick's grave.

Barnaby prepares to jump, but a voice from nearby freezes him in place.

"Bunny?"

Barnaby glares at the owner at that voice.

"What are you doing?" Kotetsu asks.

"You wouldn't understand," Barnaby answers. Again, Barnaby prepares to leap. He's wasted enough time. The seconds are ticking by.

"Don't do it!" an officer yells. He takes aim at Barnaby.

"Calm down," Kotetsu says. His voice is stern, serious. He doesn't want anyone getting hurt, especially Barnaby. "I'll take him with me."

One of the officers looks like he's ready to protest, but one look in Kotetsu's amber eyes keeps him quiet.

He reaches a hand out to Barnaby. "Come on, Bunny. Let's go."

"The grave," Barnaby says angrily. "I have to get to his grave."

"Okay, then. I'll take you." Kotetsu's hand is still extended. He's still waiting for Barnaby to take it. He knows Barnaby is losing it, but Kotetsu refuses to let him get to the point of no return. He'd rather die than see Barnaby lose himself. The kid has had such a hard life. Kotetsu thinks that it would be a shame to watch him crumble so much that the pieces are impossible to put together again. "Come on." Kotetsu speaks softly, like he is talking to a frightened child. Barnaby reminds him of a terrified animal, one on the verge of biting and attacking everything around him.

Barnaby is still glaring even when he brushes past the officers with their guns still drawn, pointing directly at him. He notices that their hands are trembling. None of them really wants to be responsible for shooting the man dubbed the King of Heroes. He snorts softly and approaches Kotetsu, but he doesn't take his partner's offered hand. They leave police headquarters and make their way to Kotetsu's vehicle. Barnaby stands next to the passenger's side door and waits impatiently for Kotetsu to unlock it.

"Bunny, what's going on?" Kotetsu asks. He reaches out to Barnaby, but Barnaby smacks his hand away.

"You said you would take me to his grave. I have to find the clues."

Kotetsu frowns. "Whose grave? What clues? You're not making any sense, Bunny."

"Mavericks!" Barnaby shouts. The faint blue light surrounding him disappears. Moisture clings to his eyelashes. He doesn't care if he's crying. He's frustrated and Kotetsu doesn't understand. "I have to get inside. His casket will have the clues." He grabs at his hair and tugs at the golden strands. He needs Kotetsu to listen to him, to _understand_. "I need to find him."

Kotetsu is nervous, but he appears calm. He knows that it will not help Bunny if both of them are freaking out. "Maverick's dead, Bunny. You know that."

"Do I?" Barnaby asks. He can barely see Kotetsu now. He's not sure when he started crying, but his glasses are streaked with tears. "How do any of us really know anything when all we do is lie?" His voice is somber now. He's lost the energy to yell. He just wants answers, wants to sleep. He's tired. He'll be fine if it all ends. If everything just fades to black.

Kotetsu resists the urge to grab Barnaby and wrap his arms around the younger man. It aches to see Barnaby like this. "No one is lying to you."

"You've lied to me."

It stings hearing those words because Kotetsu knows that they're true. He has lied to Barnaby in the past. But the past is just that. He has no plans of letting history repeat itself. "I have," Kotetsu agrees. "But not anymore."

"What difference does it make?" Barnaby asks. "No one cares." He bites back the _about me_ that almost follows that statement. He doesn't need anyone to care about him. He's fine on his own.

Kotetsu's angry now because that's not true. Plenty of people care. _He_ cares. "I care."

Barnaby shakes his head. "No one understands." _Me_.

"I understand."

"No, you don't," Barnaby snaps. "You don't understand anything. You don't know how it feels!"

Kotetsu speaks softly. "How what feels, Bunny? If you just talk to me, I could—"

No, you couldn't!" Barnaby cuts him off. "You'll never know. You have your friends, your family, and your daughter. What do I have, Kotetsu? Who? Who do _I_ have?"

Kotetsu is surprised by this question. All this time, he's certain that he's made it clear that he and Barnaby would always be a team no matter what. He would always, _always_, be there for him. "You have me."

Barnaby sighs. "You just don't get," he replies. "That's not lov—" He stops and thinks about what he was about to say. "Just take me home."

But Kotetsu isn't having any of that. "Not what?" he asks. "Go ahead, Bunny. Finish."

But Barnaby is done talking for the night. He just wants to rest. "I'll walk." He takes a step, but Kotetsu reaches out, grabs him, and pull him back. He struggles against Kotetsu's hold, but is unable to break free. He's weak from stress. He still has about fifty minutes before he can activate the Hundred Power again. "Let go."

"When you finish, I will."

"I'm done. There is nothing to finish."

"Ah." Kotetsu's grip tightens on Barnaby's arm. "Then I'll finish for you." He pushes Barnaby against the car. He's not gentle, but he's not overly rough. He feels Barnaby tense against him. "Love?" Kotetsu finishes. "Is that what you were going to say?" When Barnaby doesn't answer, he continues. "Did you ever think about asking me how I felt, Bunny?" Kotetsu sounds annoyed and slightly upset when he speaks. "Did you even give me the chance to say that I—"

"I don't want you to say—"

Kotetsu clamps a hand over Barnaby's mouth. "Love you," he finishes. "Everything is not always about what you want. This great big ole world does not revolve around you, Bunny." Kotetsu sounds like a father lecturing his child. "But _my_ world does."

Barnaby eyes widen and his heart begins to race. He's not sure what he should do or how he should respond. He just stands there, wide green eyes locked on Kotetsu amber ones.

"What? Still nothing to say?" Kotetsu asks.

Barnaby mumbles something from behind Kotetsu's hand. Kotetsu realizes that his hand is muffling Barnaby's words, so he moves it.

"Your hand smells like mayonnaise."

Kotetsu stares at Barnaby for a second, blinks, and then laughs. He's a little embarrassed. He hadn't expected Barnaby to say something like that. "I was eating before I got the call to come talk some sense into you."

An awkward silence falls between them until Kotetsu finally breaks it. "Well, uh, aren't you going to say it back?"

"Say what back?" Barnaby asks.

It's Kotetsu's turn to be shocked. Eyebrows raised, eyes wide, he looks as though he is standing in the road with a bus hurdling towards him. "You know…" He blushes. "That you love me."

"You didn't say that to me."

"Yes I did!" Kotetsu shouts. "Weren't you listening at all? Didn't you hear how cool I sounded just now?"

"You didn't say you loved me," Barnaby replies. And technically, he's right.

Kotetsu knows they can stand here and argue about this all night, so he decides to be the bigger man, the mature one of the two of them. "I love you, Bunny." He takes pleasure from the blush that spreads across Barnaby cheeks. "Now say it back to me."

Barnaby feels like a weight has been lifted off of him. In the back of his mind, he wonders if this is just another part of Mr. Maverick's riddles, but he decides that he won't let that be the frontrunner in his life. "You're not supposed to demand a love confession from someone," Barnaby chides him. "It makes it less authentic."

Kotetsu isn't amused. In fact, he feels like taking off his hat and shoving it down Barnaby's throat. He's just left himself open and vulnerable. He wonders if he made the right move.

"I do too," Barnaby says. "Love you."

Immediately, Kotetsu feels relief. Good. This is good."Okay, so we both love each other."

"But are we in love?"

"What? Isn't this what we just went over?" Kotetsu thoroughly bewildered now. Why is Barnaby such a confusing guy?

"Loving someone and being in love with them are two different things," Barnaby replies.

Kotetsu sighs. "I love you and I'm _in_ love with you, Barnaby." Kotetsu is nervous again. "D-Don't you feel the same?"

"Yes."

"Then why did we just go back and forth with the whole love and in love thing?" Kotetsu wonders if it's still love if he strangles Barnaby against the car.

"I thought you wanted clarity."

"Did I ask for clarity?"

"No," Barnaby answers. "Hence the world _thought_ in my previous sentence."

"Gah, Bunny." Kotetsu shakes him a little bit. "Stop kidding around. This is serious."

"I _am_ being serious. You be serious." Their conversation reminds Barnaby of when they'd first met each other. He smiles and ignores Kotetsu as he begins to ramble about the importance of seriousness when an old man is confessing his love. Half of what he is saying makes no sense at all. He's doesn't know the correct vocabulary terms for what he wants to say, so he's using incorrect ones in their place. To silence Kotetsu, who is still rambling, Barnaby leans forward and presses his lips gently against his partner's own.

It works.

Kotetsu finally shuts up. Barnaby's lips are soft, like a rose petal. Not that Kotetsu has actually ever kissed a rose petal, but he imagines if he did kissed one, it'd feel like Barnaby's lips. Barnaby tongue darts out and gently slides between Kotetsu's lips, seeking entrance and Kotetsu grants it access. They kiss passionately, pressed against Kotetsu's car. Fingers grip shoulders, sides, breath hitches; bodies are flush against one another, hidden by the physical barrier of their clothing until a car drives past and honks the horn.

Kotetsu pulls away and clears his throat. "Maybe we should…" He gasps when Barnaby's hand slides into his pant pocket and creeps along his thigh. He's disappointed when Barnaby's hand slides back out, dragging Kotetsu's car keys along with it.

Barnaby unlocks the car door and climbs inside, leaving Kotetsu standing outside trying to figure out what's going on. After a second of standing there looking utterly perplexed, he decides that it makes more sense to get inside the car with Barnaby. The moment his back hits the seat, Barnaby launches himself onto Kotetsu, earning a cry of surprise from his partner.

This isn't the craziest thing he's ever done—after all, he was just wreaking havoc in the records department moments ago—but it definitely ranks among the top five. Pale fingers grasp the handle that control the position of the seat and lowers it until it's lying completely flat. He chuckles when Kotetsu jerks below him, hands clinging to his arms as if he's falling.

Clothing is shed in a matter of minutes. The windows are fogged from their breath and the heat of their bodies pressed against one another. It is a spur of the moment deal, something they didn't planned for. Lotion that Kotetsu kept in his glove compartment probably wasn't the ideal substance to use, but it's effective.

If it wasn't so intense, if didn't feel so _good_, they would both be embarrassed by the sounds they're making. Barnaby rides him slowly at first, hips winding, rotating back and forth until they're both ready to burst.

"Kotetsu." Barnaby shouts his partner's name and Kotetsu decides he likes it when Barnaby shouts. It does something to his body, to his mind, his _heart_.

Kotetsu grips either side of Barnaby's hips and raises him up, forces him down, and repeats. He continues to do this, watching, greedily taking in the site of Barnaby pumping himself. Kotetsu is torn. He can't decide which is more beautiful to look at, Barnaby's cock or the breath-taking expression on his face. He growls softly when Barnaby cums, milky and warm against his stomach and does his best to hold back, but fails. He's not as loud as Barnaby is when he cums. He's able to control himself a little better. He knows they're still in a car parked on the street with the potential charge of public nudity and indecent exposure looming over their heads.

Barnaby collapses onto him, smearing the mess he made against both of their stomachs. It feels gross, but Kotetsu doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to ruin the mood. It's nothing a nice shower can't fix. They lie quietly for who knows how long. Kotetsu really wants to roll down the windows, but he's afraid to move. He doesn't want Barnaby to come back to his senses, to realize that he has just made love to an old man, a single father whose doesn't really excel at anything.

But Kotetsu needn't worry. Barnaby loves him all the same and knows that Kotetsu does excel at many things, but the most important of them all is being himself. Kotetsu is one of a kind, perfectly imperfect, strong, powerful, caring, sexy, and just a little bit of an idiot. Even after all that Barnaby has been through, even though he's still confused, at that moment he feels like the luckiest man in the world.

"Thank you," Barnaby whispers into Kotetsu's ear.

Kotetsu grins. "That good, eh, Bunny?"

Barnaby sighs. He changes his mind. Kotetsu is an imbecile, a complete and utter moron.


End file.
